


Sword or Cock for Hire

by sordes



Series: The Adventures of Ardyn, Prince of Sluts (and the Concubine known as Gilgamesh) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ardyn Prince of Sluts, Dick slapping, E-rated butt stuff shenanigans, Face-Fucking, Gags, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Not quite an AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, not quite canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: “How about this,” Ardyn drawls, pushing himself up on his elbows. “You play the sultan, and I'll play your concubine. A spoil of war, the crown jewel of your harem filled with exotic beauties. Yours to do with as you please.” Gilgamesh hasn’t realized until now how close their faces are, having unconsciously leaned down to close the distance between them as the prince spoke. “Does that sound agreeable to you, my king?” Now there’s but an inch between their lips, Ardyn's breath hot on Gilgamesh's skin.The one where Gilgamesh has a career change.





	Sword or Cock for Hire

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the infallible [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accursedspatula).
> 
> Let's just say watching Rome inspired me.

As good as the pay is, this job is turning out to be a horrible, horrible mistake.

Gilgamesh shifts in the saddle, his ass and thighs already sore even though it’s not yet midday, the sun already bearing down on his neck. It’s ungodly hot, and will only get hotter as the day goes on, the barren desert offering zero shade or breeze to alleviate even a smidge of the discomfort.

Accepting the contract was indeed a terrible error in judgment.

In Gilgamesh’s defense, though, how was he to know that escorting a royal cavalcade came with moving at a snail’s pace? How was he to know the crown prince only traveled such distances in the comfort of his litter? How was he to possibly know that the crown prince’s litter was essentially a house?

What had begun as a simple job—escort the crown prince across the span of desert Gilgamesh’s nomadic people called home to his palace and collect a handsome reward—had devolved into a logistical nightmare as the group barely covered any distance each day. The litter itself was supported by a number of solid timbers, held up and carried by a band of perpetually sweaty male slaves, the whole affair shuffling slowly in the direction of their prince’s home.

A number of other retainers walked or were on horseback, like Gilgamesh and his men, but all were forced into trodding along at a painfully slow pace so as not to leave the litter behind. Gilgamesh’s men took to running wide rounds around the cavalcade, urging their horses to run, a short lived measure to alleviate at least some of the boredom and saddle sore. He couldn’t blame them, and often took a few quick rounds himself. Anything to make the day pass by a little faster.

When they make camp for the night, the slaves would set the litter down and rush to find food and sleep, with only another exhausting day of hauling the enormous structure before them. The rest of the royal retinue and Gilgamesh’s men would build up fires and keep watch of the perimeter, and never once has Gilgamesh caught a glimpse of the prince himself. If he ever leaves the litter, he must do so under complete cover of darkness or has a secret entryway.

The only person to leave or enter the litter is an older woman—the prince’s body slave, no doubt. Though she is old, back hunched from years of hard work, her robes are always clean and immaculately pressed. Serving the prince does have its perks, Gilgamesh supposes. She mostly brings the prince his meals, carting dishes to and fro, and one night Gilgamesh spots her discretely carrying off what he assumes to be a chamber pot.

Aside from bringing the prince things, the slave does seem to have one other task.

Most nights, after tending to the prince’s most immediate needs, she wanders the camp as the men bed down for the night, seeming to take stock. Occasionally she’ll pause, rouse a man, and have him follow her back to the litter. Sometimes the man will emerge shortly after, a bit dazed, other times he’ll stay for a while, later emerging even more out of sorts. Gilgamesh doesn't question it, and he doesn’t care to. Getting this hellish journey over being his top priority, so he surrenders himself to sleep each night without thinking too much about whatever is going on behind closed doors.

Still, it comes as quite the surprise when the body slave stops before his bed roll one night, peering down at him sharply. Gilgamesh pretends to be asleep to ward her off, but he can't ignore her kicks to his side for long. As small and frail as she looks, she has to be fearless to serve the crown prince, Gilgamesh supposes.

“What?” Gilgamesh fails utterly to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he cracks open an eye.

The slave gives him one more once over, then crouches down to haul him up. “Come with me.” Gilgamesh resists—it’s not as if she can actually pull him up—but she’s relentless, practically yanking his arm out of his socket. “Up, up.”

He gives in more out of annoyance than anything else, the slave tutting at him as he gets to his feet. A second later she’s dragging him behind her towards the litter, an insistence in her step, and it seems that Gilgamesh will get to the bottom of these mysterious late night visits after all. Really, though, he just hopes he’ll be one of the lot quickly booted out so he can get back to his spot by the fire. He smells bad enough, and his mood is just about as foul—hardly acceptable company for royalty.

But after his luck in accepting this job? Gilgamesh really isn’t sure he’ll be so lucky.

The slave leads him up the wooden steps and pulls open the heavy curtain, slipping inside. Gilgamesh follows in lockstep, unable to suppress the little gasp of surprise when he sees the interior of the litter for the first time. As impressive as its size is from the outside, from the inside it hardly resembles a portable structure at all.

Luxurious silks are draped on the walls, the floorboards covered with a thick, colorful carpet. The space is lit with a number of oil lamps and it smells sweetly of incense—a fragrance Gilgamesh can’t put his finger on, something so precious and expensive he’s never smelled it in his life.

“This one smells the least of horse.” The old slave stops abruptly in front of him, Gilgamesh nearly running into her. “Present yourself,” she commands as she herself turns and bows to the man lounging before them, his presence up to now lost on Gilgamesh, caught up in the magnificence of the room. 

Gilgamesh has never seen someone in such a state of undress but so perfectly haughty, as if he were drowning in jewels and sitting upon a mountain of gold. The prince before him is lying on his back, propped up slightly on his elbows on the largest bed Gilgamesh has ever seen in his life. The sheer, nightshade colored robe he wears is draped in a pool around his elbows, his shoulders bare. Curious and calculating golden eyes stare back piercingly at him through a curtain of auburn hair. He’s young, that much is obvious from his smooth, unmarred skin and the lithe lines of his naked chest, and though devoid of any signs of ever having done hard labor or fighting in battle, there’s no telltale softness of a nobleman's body. 

“Your Majesty,” Gilgamesh says all at once, bowing his head slightly. Unsure of his place in regards to a prince and the reason for being summoned in the middle of the night, he keeps his eyes firmly squared on the curtain-draped wall just over the prince’s head, lest he be chastised for looking upon his exposed form. “Gilgamesh, at your service.”

Instead of making his purpose known, the prince pushes himself up onto his knees, the gold bracelets on his wrists tinkling softly, and crawls to the edge of the lavish bed. Gilgamesh holds his ground, and though his eyes drop briefly to watch the prince approach, they quickly shoot back up to the wall. Is this a test of some sorts? With only a short distance between them Gilgamesh can smell the fine jasmine perfume on the prince's skin and he swallows hard. Though a man of great stature and notorious reputation, he can’t help but feel intimidated before the slight prince and his regal yet impish aura.

The prince eyes him up and down, as if he were examining a sow at market. Though he has an eyebrow cocked and his mouth is drawn into a thin line, he eventually shrugs and nods slightly to the old slave. 

The slave nods back and looks up at Gilgamesh, who towers above them both. “You will penetrate him.”

Gilgamesh blinks at the wall a few times. His ears are still not completely used to the tongue the slave speaks in. Perhaps he had misheard. Or misunderstood. Gilgamesh clears his throat. “Ah... what?” he asks no one in particular.

The prince cocks his head to the side seductively as he reclines onto his side. His eyes are molten with desire and he runs his tongue over his lower lip slowly. Suddenly it all makes sense.

“You will...” The slave trails off, searching for the right word. "Copulate with him?”

Gilgamesh blinks down at her, at the seriousness painted across her deeply wrinkled face, utterly and completely lost. “I... I'm sorry?”

“Is he refusing me?” the prince asks his slave. “ _Me?_ ” Affronted, he scrambles up onto his knees, his hair seeming to stand on end as if he were a tomcat, ready for a fight.

“You would refuse the crown prince? Chosen by the Gods? The vessel of light and all that is good and holy in this world?” The slave digs a bony finger into Gilgamesh's gut, equally affronted. Under such scrutiny, it feels sharper than any blade Gilgamesh has had the misfortune of being stabbed by in the past.

“This hardly seems...” Gilgamesh bites back his words as the prince flops onto his back and rubs his foot against the side of his chest. Seductively the prince rolls his ankle and smooths his sole up and down, encouraging Gilgamesh to turn towards him. 

“The prince desires your services,” the slave cuts in, her voice a low blur to Gilgamesh's addled ears. He suddenly feels as if he’s ten feet underwater, awash in the prince's seduction, going along with the flow of things as a jellyfish rides the ocean current. “This is a great honor.”

Gilgamesh continues to blink as he stares down at the wanton prince, still caressing his chest with his foot.

“Do you not want me?” The prince's voice is smooth as velvet and low with desire, and he’s looking up at Gilgamesh through half-lidded eyes, dripping with want.

Gilgamesh swallows. At the time he accepted the job to escort the cavalcade, he was told to obey the prince's each and every command without question, but conversely, also told not to look directly at him, speak to him, and by no means touch him. Befuddled by the glaring contradiction to these stipulations presented by the prince now, Gilgamesh just blinks. This is a question far beyond someone of his station.

When Gilgamesh refuses to melt under the prince's advance, his sultry expression darkens in the blink of an eye.

“Well? _Does_  he not want me?” he snaps at the slave. 

“It would be his pleasure,” the slave assures, her gnarled hands tugging at the laces of Gilgamesh's breeches. She’s fast despite her age and arthritis and Gilgamesh's breeches are around his knees a moment later. Before Gilgamesh can let out even the slightest yelp or peep of indignation or surprise, the slave is lifting the hem of his tunic, exposing his flaccid cock and the tight cluster of dark hair surrounding it.

The prince and slave exchange an impressed look and nod at the sight. 

“I've had worse.” The prince settles back amongst the pillows, his legs bent, spreading them slightly. 

“Much worse,” the slave agrees. 

It’s not until she reaches for Gilgamesh's cock to try and rouse it to hardness does Gilgamesh snap out of his shock. He catches the woman's hand and holds it firmly in place as he wrenches his tunic down, concealing most of his dignity.

“Has the world gone mad?” he sputters, well aware he’s treading choppy waters here, barely keeping his head above the surface. 

There’s the sharp point of a knife between his ribs a breath later. Gilgamesh raises his hands with the greatest of care, relinquishing the slave’s hand, stunned that she wouldn't think twice of pulling a blade on a man more than twice her size. “You will do as commanded or—”

“Come now, Kemsit, don't frighten him.” The prince opens his legs wider, giving Gilgamesh an eyeful of his own cock, the wispy material of his robe leaving just enough to imagination to send a thrill of interest down his spine. “I find his defiance... endearing. What was your name again?”

The slave, known as Kemsit apparently, adds a touch more pressure behind the knifepoint, spurring Gilgamesh to answer.

“Gilgamesh, Your Majesty.”

The prince dips a hand between his legs, fingers ghosting over his cock, but never lingering, as they move further south. “Speak plainly. We shall act as if we are equals here—it makes things easier, in my experience. You may call me Ardyn when you fuck me.” He pulls back the semi-sheer fabric, exposing his pink, puckered hole.

It only takes his finger one lazy half circle around its perimeter for Gilgamesh's knees to meet the edge of the bed.

Dimly Gilgamesh is aware of Kemsit's pleased grunt and the fact that her knife has vanished from his side, but aside from the sweet smell of Ardyn's skin and the sight of his eager hole, Gilgamesh's awareness and thoughts are muted.

“So he does know his place,” Ardyn smirks. “Good boy.” His smug smile is replaced by an airy gasp when Gilgamesh grabs his thighs and roughly parts them further. If this is a test, he has no idea whether he’s just passed or failed, but Ardyn's hold is so strong over him that it hardly matters to him now. Now the only things on his mind are rutting himself into oblivion and silencing the prince from prattling on further; ideally the two will go hand in hand.

“Permission to speak freely, Your Majesty?” He asks as he rubs circles on Ardyn's inner thighs with his thumbs.

“Don't get cheeky,” Kemsit warns from where she sits in the corner of the litter, her knife glinting in the light of the oil lamp. She’s still on high alert, ready to pounce if need be.

“Oh, hush, you old crone,” Ardyn ripostes, leaning to the side to see her around Gilgamesh. “Before the brute could hardly string two words together. Aren't you at least a tad curious as to what he has to say now?”

Kemsit rolls her eyes. “We never choose them for their brains.”

“But on occasion we do for their tongues,” Ardyn quips. A dangerous intelligence flashes in his honey-gold eyes when he looks up to Gilgamesh once more. “Permission granted, Gilgamesh.”

Gilgamesh's eyes rove up from between Ardyn's legs to his face. If not for the intoxicating scent, he might be shaking at the thought of the impudence he’s about to relay. “Do you always play the part of wanton whore? Or are there any other games you prefer to play?” 

Kemsit is on her feet in a flash, her chair colliding with the wall in a harsh clatter. Ardyn stills her with the graceful gesture of one hand, bracelets sliding down his forearm. 

He looks up at Gilgamesh, defiant in a way Gilgamesh supposes only royalty can be. It’s obvious that Ardyn fully believes he’s cut from an entirely different cloth than Gilgamesh, better in every way. But he clicks his tongue cheekily, indicating Gilgamesh's own rebuttals are still a thing of amusement to him and not an annoyance.  _Not yet, anyway._

“How about this,” Ardyn drawls, pushing himself up on his elbows. “You play the sultan, and I'll play your concubine. A spoil of war, the crown jewel of your harem filled with exotic beauties. Yours to do with as you please.” Gilgamesh hasn’t realized until now how close their faces are, having unconsciously leaned down to close the distance between them as the prince spoke. “Does that sound agreeable to you, my king?” Now there’s but an inch between their lips, Ardyn's breath hot on Gilgamesh's skin.

It sounds more than agreeable.

Gilgamesh forcefully claims Ardyn's mouth, the sexual current between them finally connecting. Ardyn's eyes narrow at the suddenness of the kiss, but it doesn’t take him any more than a second to acclimate and respond in kind, licking hungrily into Gilgamesh's mouth. Gilgamesh is vaguely aware that Kemsit had taken her seat once more, and while the notion of her observing everything that is about to happen sows some seeds of anxiety in his mind, Ardyn's quick fingers pulling up his tunic keep them from putting down roots.

Their mouths break only for Gilgamesh to shuck his tunic over his head and arms and throw it to the floor, naked aside from the breeches still bunched up at his knees. Ardyn reclines, biting his lower lip coyly, and traces his fingertips up the musculature of Gilgamesh's stomach and chest. When he reaches as high as he can, Ardyn rakes his fingernails down through the coarse dusting of black hair. “Aren't you something,” he muses, though not particularly to Gilgamesh. 

Though Ardyn has called Gilgamesh here to fuck—a treat, really—and he’s certainly a looker, something about the situation still irks Gilgamesh, a lingering feeling he can’t quite shake off. The fact that Ardyn had suggested the game, too, means all Gilgamesh is doing is playing into the prince's desires, feeding into that royal ego that only values him in this moment for the cock hanging between his legs.

“What will you do with me?” Ardyn raises his arms above his head invitingly, sighing like a contented cat. “How will you make me yours?”

Gilgamesh thinks for a moment, how to turn the situation in his favor and gain the upper hand, then flashes a grin, his teeth a slice of white amongst the black of his beard. “I don't remember giving you permission to speak.” He takes Ardyn's wrists into hand, one then the other, tugging them in toward himself.

Ardyn quirks an eyebrow, the impudence still amusing. “So that's how you intend to play this.”

“What’s the point in playing at all if your heart’s not in it?” Gilgamesh pulls Ardyn's arms down and holds them at his sides as he maneuvers himself up Ardyn's body so he’s straddling his chest. “If you insist on continuing to flap your lips,” he continues, slotting Ardyn's arms between his thighs and Ardyn’s body, pinning them in place, “I'll just have to find another way to occupy your mouth.”

Gilgamesh knows he’s well-endowed, his cock an impressive sight even flaccid, and he knows that size was the major deciding factor as to why the prince didn't expel him from his litter or Kemsit's blade hadn't found its way between his ribs. Though still soft, the thrill of everything is beginning to have an effect on him—especially the way Ardyn’s eyes gleam at being so close his barbarian king’s cock. Despite Ardyn’s arrogance, Gilgamesh has no intention of committing regicide by crushing Ardyn under his mass, so he keeps the bulk of his weight squarely on his knees, which sink deeply into the plush mattress. Still, he knows the position is hardly comfortable for Ardyn, something that sends a spark of excitement through him.

Holding the base of his cock, Gilgamesh slaps Ardyn's cheek with his still soft length. Although the sound of skin smacking against skin is hardly loud on its own, in the placidity of the litter it seems deafening. Gilgamesh braces himself for Kemsit to strike or for Ardyn to object and wriggle to get free, but neither happens. Moving his hand up toward the tip, Gilgamesh rubs his cockhead across Ardyn’s chin and over his lower lip. “Cat got your tongue now?”

Ardyn grins, his hands suddenly on Gilgamesh’s ass and squeezing it hard. “I live only to serve.” Though everything in Ardyn’s eyes screams defiant challenge, he opens his mouth, tongue flattened and point extended past his bottom lip; an open invitation if Gilgamesh ever saw one.

Both sigh as Gilgamesh guides his cock into Ardyn’s mouth, Gilgamesh pressing it lightly against Ardyn’s tongue for a modicum of extra friction. Ardyn takes over from there, lifting his head and closing his lips around the cock, making it clear he’s by no means inexperienced. He hollows his cheeks, adding a touch of suction to the lewd act, and slowly moves his head forward and back, his agile tongue lapping at the underside of Gilgamesh’s cock. Gilgamesh stares lamely down at the sight, mouth agape, conflicted with letting himself enjoy the sights and sensations the prince is offering and further submitting to the prince’s demands.

It doesn’t take much longer for Ardyn to bring Gilgamesh to complete hardness, despite Gilgamesh’s conflicted mind. The angle with Gilgamesh’s full length and girth makes it awkward for Ardyn to continue, however, so he settles his head back down amongst the pillows and concentrates his efforts on sucking and licking the cockhead. It’s obvious he’s doing an exemplary job, his cheeks flushed with rosy pride, and even Gilgamesh can’t begrudge the few unguarded moans and sighs that escape him when Ardyn's mouth does something particularly skillful.

“Did you have the best whores and consorts in all the land to teach you? Can I thank your body slave for your expertise?”

Kemsit chokes out a laugh behind them. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

Affectionately, Gilgamesh rubs Ardyn's cheek, his thumb pressing lightly over his cockhead where it distends the side of Ardyn's mouth. His free hand takes a handful of Ardyn's soft hair, forcing his head up slightly and holds him in place. A word or two or warning are on his tongue but the glint in Ardyn's eye stops him. The cockslut was waiting for this.

Gilgamesh swears under his breath in his mother tongue as he fucks Ardyn's mouth shallowly, testing both his aptitude for control and the prince's gag reflex. Luckily both seem up to snuff, and Gilgamesh's hips jut deeper, working himself further down Ardyn's throat with each thrust until he’s hilted, Ardyn's nose buried in his dark curls.

He has to give credit where credit is due—Ardyn holds him deep, his fingernails digging into Gilgamesh's ass all the while, but he neither gags nor chokes, his throat soft and relaxed. Ardyn just hums, swirling his tongue around the girthy cock, and before long Gilgamesh's head falls back and his eyes close, only the wet heat of Ardyn's mouth and his grip on Ardyn's hair tethering him to reality.

Gilgamesh fucks Ardyn’s mouth smoothly and evenly, the prince taking every inch with grace and ease, skills Gilgamesh imagined only the most illustrious of courtesans commanded. Just _how_ the crown prince of a sovereign nation came to possess such a skillset is beyond him, but the flicks and swirls of Ardyn’s tongue on his cock give him plenty of wonderful images to work with. Two sharp taps on his ass a beat later wrench Gilgamesh from his imaginings, however, and he looks down to see Ardyn trying to pull himself back. It certainly wouldn’t do to suffocate the man on his cock—him being royalty and all—so Gilgamesh acquiesces and lets go of Ardyn’s hair, allowing him to dislodge the cock from his mouth.

“I think I changed my mind about the wardrobe,” Ardyn says, his voice completely flat, as if he had just been sipping tea instead of sucking a sweaty cock. “Purple. Let’s go with the purple one.”

Kemsit hums from the corner. “And the gold chain?”

“Of course,” Ardyn purrs, idly lapping Gilgamesh’s cockhead with the tip of his tongue.

Gilgamesh blinks down at him, yet again utterly floored at the prince’s capacity for—well there’s no other way to put it—for being a _whore_. The mere notion that he can so effortlessly and seamlessly move between giving Gilgamesh the most heavenly sexual experience of his life to conversing with his body slave about the mundane, completely unaffected by everything, makes Gilgamesh’s stomach churn. It angers him to be so idly played with, and that despite everything, he realizes that Ardyn is still very much in control. Conversely, the prince’s ability to compartmentalize also makes a part of Gilgamesh desire the prince even more. If only to put him in his place, Gilgamesh thinks, belatedly, if only for that.

“Though if my dear brother wears that awful sage number at the ceremony, perhaps the red one would be better.” Ardyn shakes his head lightly, the gears in his head turning as he lightly presses his lips to whatever part of Gilgamesh’s cock he can reach. “Have the slaves prepare both, I suppose.”

Now it’s just getting awkward—Gilgamesh’s presence in the room is totally forgotten, save for the head of his cock. Gilgamesh clears his throat.

“A wise decision,” Kemsit says.

“And the sapphires dear mama gave me last winter, I’ll want those.”

Gilgamesh clears his throat again.

“Oooh, or maybe the asp bangle, with the ruby eyes?”

“That would match the red one.”

Gilgamesh cards a hand through Ardyn’s hair, reminding him he is very much still here. “Dear concubine?” he asks sweetly. “A moment?”

Ardyn glances up at him, barely veiling his smugness with an apologetic look. “Apologies, my king, your crown jewel has pressing matters to attend to.” His innocent smile only rankles Gilgamesh further.

It takes everything Gilgamesh has within him to keep the vitriol from his voice. “More important than performing your duties?”

“No need to get jealous.” Ardyn leans in and presses a chaste kiss to Gilgamesh’s cock. “I’m still all yours.” He extends his tongue between his pink lips and makes to lick the cockhead again, but his eyes light up, remembering something, and he pauses. “On second thought, maybe stick to the purple—”

Gilgamesh’s hand moves faster than his brain and the next thing all parties present hear is the sharp, wet _slap_ of skin on skin. Ardyn hasn’t tapped Gilgamesh’s ass or thigh for reprieve, no, in one swift motion Gilgamesh has taken hold of his idly-attended-to cock and uses it to slap Ardyn’s cheek, leaving a shiny mess of spit and precome on Ardyn’s face where the blow connects.

A chill runs up Gilgamesh’s spine. Ardyn is glaring up at him, mouth parted in shock, and the hairs on the back of Gilgamesh’s neck stand on end, Kemsit a breath away from pouncing. The tension doesn’t so much as evaporate, but it does seem to melt away bit by bit as Ardyn begins to laugh. It’s not in complete good humor, no, there’s disbelief in, shock at Gilgamesh’s impudence, but beneath it all is both parts amusement and arousal.

“Again.”

Before Gilgamesh can puzzle out the prince’s meaning, he speaks again.

“Hit me again.”

Ardyn has an iron grip on Gilgamesh’s ass, his bracelets tinkling softly as he kneads the musculature underneath the downy layer of hair. Gilgamesh feels like a fool for ever doubting his capacity for shamelessness.

When Gilgamesh next speaks, to him it sounds as if his voice is not his own, his heartbeat thrumming between his ears blocking out nearly everything else. “Offer your tongue.”

Obligingly, Ardyn opens his mouth further and flattens his tongue, extending it past his lips. Gilgamesh is well aware he probably looks every part the barbarian drunk on lust, playing into stereotypes and all, but it’s hard to care with such an eager slut beneath him. Hand wrapped near the root of his cock, Gilgamesh maneuvers it to Ardyn’s awaiting tongue. Ardyn holds it flat and still as Gilgamesh smears his cock on it, the softest breathy sighs escaping from Gilgamesh’s parted lips, eyes completely engrossed with the sight before him.

Ardyn startles, though really only infinitesimally, when Gilgamesh slaps his cock against his awaiting tongue. Gilgamesh smears his cock in the mix of saliva and precome, and thwacks it down another two times on Ardyn’s tongue for good measure. He grabs a handful of Ardyn’s soft tresses and holds his head up again, then cants his hips up, rolls his hips in a few smooth thrusts into Ardyn’s wet heat.

Absentmindedly, Gilgamesh notes the absence of Ardyn’s hands on his ass and looks over his shoulder to find the prince palming himself through his sheer robe. A low, drawn-out groan escapes Gilgamesh’s lips at the sight, and he swears he can feel Ardyn smiling around his cock. This prince truly is a minx in every sense of the word.

As divine as Ardyn’s mouth feels, the sight of his cheek distended with Gilgamesh’s cock pressing against it, it’s clear that Ardyn’s (or his own) appetite won’t be satisfied with just this. Gilgamesh gives one last good, deep thrust, finally earning a minor gag, then withdraws, crawling back on his knees down Ardyn’s body, the thin silken strand of precome connecting the tip of his cock and Ardyn’s red, swollen lips snapping before he gets too far.

Ardyn licks his lips, allowing Gilgamesh to retreat, and draws his hands up his body and tucks them under his head, wild locks splayed over the pillow. Gilgamesh’s eyes rake down Ardyn’s body as he settles between the prince’s splayed legs. His chest and torso are completely smooth, devoid of any mar or patch of hair, the pattern continuing south to his half-hard cock, barely masked by the thin fabric. Gilgamesh pushes the robes aside and can’t help but marvel at how velvety soft the skin around Ardyn’s groin is as he runs his fingertips over it, causing Ardyn to mewl and writhe. If he’s being honest, the sight is a tad odd to him—the combination of a fully-grown man's cock with the hairlessness of a boy—but it only takes Ardyn canting his hips up in search of touch and friction, something solid of Gilgamesh’s to grind against, for that notion to disappear.

“I see why they made you top concubine,” Gilgamesh muses, fingertips skating over the soft skin, avoiding Ardyn's cock. “Were you born this way, or does Kemsit keep you soft and smooth as a youth?”

“It's a precaution, you could say.” Ardyn blows a stay lock of hair out of his face, annoyed and wanting Gilgamesh's touch. “Never know what you can pick up, even from a king.”

Gilgamesh unleashes a bark of a laugh at that. “If you had an ounce of patience you could have had me washed and clean before savaging you.”

Ardyn shrugs. “It's all a part of the fantasy, which really,” he drags a braceleted hand down his smooth chest and takes himself in hand, lazily pumping his cock, “we should be getting back to.”

Gilgamesh exhales sharply at the show Ardyn's giving him. A part of him wants to ask if they can drop the game altogether, and just fuck—increasingly he finds the prince's wit and straightforwardness charming, though he's loath to admit it—but he holds his tongue. Sword or cock for hire it matters not, Gilgamesh is a man known for his discretion and loyalty and always getting the job done as commanded.

“I need your cock now.” Ardyn hisses, breaking Gilgamesh free from his thoughts. Ardyn's hand picks up speed, not faltering for a moment as he twists his head in the pillows. A man possessed if Gilgamesh has ever seen one.

Gilgamesh manages to tear his gaze away from the show and refocus on Ardyn's pleasure hazed eyes, the center of logic in his own brain trying and failing to maintain any semblance of control over his body.

Roughly Gilgamesh grabs Ardyn's ankles, one in each hand, and wrenches his legs open wider, then grabs his hips and roughly pulls him closer. Ardyn lets out a little noise of surprise but doesn't resist, allowing Gilgamesh to arrange him as needed. Gilgamesh ultimately sets Ardyn down so his ass is on top of his own bent knees, Ardyn’s legs splayed on either side of Gilgamesh, his hair mussed and wild and robe completely pooled around his elbows, offering zero cover.

All in all, it's not a bad sight, Gilgamesh has to admit.

The angle gives him unfettered access to Ardyn's ass, which is, Gilgamesh finds himself thinking, the most perfect asshole he's ever had the pleasure of seeing. Somehow it's perfectly pink, the ring of outer muscle smooth and hairless, and further proving he has some sort of captivating, otherworldly power, Ardyn clenches and relaxes languidly, a preview of things to come, perhaps.

Gilgamesh gives the meat of Ardyn's ass a healthy squeeze, then ventures a finger towards his hole. Much to his surprise he finds it ready, soft and loose, showing a slight gape as he pulls at the pliant skin. Gilgamesh's head is awash with images of Ardyn working himself open just minutes prior to his arrival, using his fingers or a toy, and shakes his head. Has the prince absolutely no shame? Gilgamesh is filled with both parts intense, maddening desire and hollow disappointment at not needing to work Ardyn open himself.

Kemsit materializes from out of nowhere and places a shallow dish of fragrant oil next to Gilgamesh. He startles slightly, her presence forgotten until now, but nods in thanks. Leave it to the body slave to be on top of things.

“Concubine?” Gilgamesh magicks two fingers in the slick and rubs them in a tight circle around Ardyn’s hole.

“Yes, my king?”

“Is this your natural resting state? Or did you work yourself open just for me?”

Ardyn hisses as Gilgamesh presses the tips of his fingers past the loosened ring of muscle; an act Gilgamesh suspects is all for show, given how little resistance Ardyn’s body presents. “Are you displeased?” he asks after a labored whine.

Gilgamesh hums in consideration, pressing his thick digits in deeper and scissoring them, stretching and probing Ardyn’s most intimate place. “Perhaps a little, but I'll find it in me to forgive.”

One hand braced on Ardyn's milky thigh, Gilgamesh slowly rotates his wrist so his palm is facing up. His two thick fingers make a tight fit, but it's clear Ardyn can take more so he eases in a third, Ardyn hiccuping in surprise. They make eye contact briefly, Gilgamesh grinning as he prods his fingers, searching for something. Ardyn's chest rises and falls in quick succession, the muscles in his thighs tending in anticipation of Gilgamesh finding his mark and—

Ardyn's back arches, his head twisting in the bedding, as he keens, needy and high.

“You're so beautiful when you stop talking and just enjoy.” Tongue sneaking past his lips in concentration Gilgamesh focuses on stimulating Ardyn's prostate with his fingers, rubbing and grazing it, fucking him lightly and enjoying the sensation of Ardyn's tight heat tensing around him.

The prince is in no state to reply just yet, eyes crushed shut, a fist in the bedding and on his cock. A pearlescent trail of precome leaks from his cockhead, red and slick and shiny, onto his smooth stomach, the small puddle slowly but steadily spreading and climbing up to Ardyn's chest. Alternating between fast, tight strokes and long, slow ones in time with Gilgamesh's fingers, Ardyn looks to be getting close to losing himself here and now.

A beat before Gilgamesh can suggest he fuck Ardyn in earnest now—his own achingly hard cock forgotten in the hubbub—Ardyn releases himself and is pushing himself up on his elbows. “Give me your cock. Now.”

For once Gilgamesh isn't in the mood to argue.

He urges Ardyn to roll over with an iron like grip on his hips. Ardyn complies and scrambles onto his hands and knees, back arched and ass waving invitingly, yanking his robe out of the way to give Gilgamesh an uninterrupted view. His cock hangs low between his thighs, a near perpetual thread of precome leaking from the tip, and he whines needily, looking back over his shoulder.

Gilgamesh collects more of the fragrant slick with his fingers as he gets on his knees and rubs it over his cockhead, now colored a deep purplish red, and smears it down his length. He groans lightly at the contact and the sight of Ardyn's ass before him, remembering how tight Ardyn was around his fingers. Gilgamesh wants nothing more than to spear Ardyn on his cock, to rut until they're both mad and fuck Ardyn deep into the plush mattress. Not even Kemsit's presence behind them is enough to deter him now.

He squeezes Ardyn’s hip and aligns himself with Ardyn’s hole, teasing him with his cockhead. Both are panting as Gilgamesh presses himself against Ardyn, his cockhead catching on the ring of muscle, then slipping off, repeating the motion over and over until Gilgamesh is no longer able to tell if he’s doing it on purpose or genuinely so flustered that he’s lost bodily control.

“Gilgamesh.” Ardyn’s voice is high and airy yet commanding all the same, cutting through the haze that’s clouded Gilgamesh’s mind. “ _Please_.”

Exhaling sharply, Gilgamesh forces himself to focus, squeezing Ardyn’s hip as grounding. “How badly do you want it?” He’s in no position to be asking this, not when his hand shakes in anticipation of plunging deep inside of Ardyn.

Ardyn lowers his head and juts his ass back, a desperate search for Gilgamesh. “I’d trade my kingdom for your cock.”

Gilgamesh hadn’t anticipated such a response, nor how laced with raw need Ardyn’s voice is. With an answer like that, Gilgamesh certainly can’t falter now.

Gripping his cock at the base, Gilgamesh finally aligns himself with Ardyn’s hole in earnest and presses in. The ring of muscle offers just a hint of resistance, spreading to accommodate Gilgamesh’s flush cockhead, Ardyn groaning at the stretch, then all at once his cock slides in. With his length slick and Ardyn relaxed, Gilgamesh slides in deeper than anticipated, and both grunt when the tops of Gilgamesh’s thighs thud against the backs of Ardyn’s. Hilted, Gilgamesh can do little but squeeze Ardyn’s thighs and focus on his breathing, the sudden heat and tightness overwhelming.

Ardyn is rocking his hips up and down before Gilgamesh can fully recover, hungry for movement, for stimulation. Gilgamesh gives a low growl and reaffirms his grip, pushing Ardyn down into the mattress. If Ardyn wants get fucked so badly, he can have at it. Ardyn catches on after another frustrating minute of Gilgamesh remaining stock-still and groans. Instead of letting out an order or giving Gilgamesh a tongue lashing, though, he begins to undulate his hips.

Breathy sighs escape Ardyn’s lips and he pushes himself back up from his elbows to his hands despite the pressure from Gilgamesh to stay down. With the new position he has greater maneuverability and proceeds to fuck himself, rocking forward and back. Ardyn’s head hangs low as he picks up speed, skin smacking against skin, a delicate sheen of sweat building up on his back.

“Gilgamesh,” he keens. No matter how he throws himself into it, it’s not enough. Still, Gilgamesh can’t find it in himself to relent—not yet at least. Instead he rubs his palms over Ardyn’s ass, rakes his blunt nails over his thighs. Despite being so thin and lithe, the prince’s ass and thighs certainly have a fullness to them that went unappreciated until now. Gilgamesh gives one of Ardyn’s asscheeks a firm squeeze, then draws back and slaps it hard, palm cracking against it like lightning.

Ardyn gasps in surprise and clenches down on Gilgamesh hard, then moans as Gilgamesh smooths his hand over the reddened skin. “Good to see they’re feeding you so well in the harem.” He’s sure he’s grinning like mad now, thankful that Ardyn can’t see. “Should I ever tire of you, you’d do well in the fields with an ass and thighs like these.” Another sharp slap and another breathy groan from Ardyn.

The sharp contrast of spanking and soothing renders Ardyn into a sagging heap, his arms giving out beneath him, face pressed into the mattress. Gilgamesh smooths both palms over the red, stinging skin on Ardyn’s ass, then leans forward, hilting himself once more, and pushes the hair out of Ardyn’s face, tucking it behind his ear. The blissed-out look on Ardyn’s face nearly makes him begin rutting into oblivion right then and there.

“Crown jewel of the harem, indeed.”

Teasing and toying have lost their novelty, and so Gilgamesh firmly grips Ardyn’s shoulder, his other hand anchoring on his hip, and after raising one of his legs for better leverage, finally fucks Ardyn in earnest. Bearing down on him, Gilgamesh takes off at a breakneck pace, pounding Ardyn down into the mattress, their skin smacking wetly together.

Ardyn’s thighs wobble but if anything he arches his back further, doing his utmost to give Gilgamesh the best angle for fucking down into him. The ends of his auburn hair are damp with sweat, clinging to his shoulders and back, and even Gilgamesh’s palms slip here and there due to the perspiration. Ardyn writhes and moans freely, doesn’t even try to hold himself back, eyes screwed shut, riding out the feeling of being stretched and opened.

Gilgamesh is panting, fighting to maintain his breath, and somehow wants to fuck Ardyn deeper, spear him further on his cock—as if this isn’t already enough. Sliding his one hand to Ardyn’s hip he pulls back completely, earning a surprised and displeased grunt from Ardyn. Before Ardyn can push himself back up, Gilgamesh flops down on his ass, sending both of them bouncing on the mattress, and shoves down his breeches, kicking them off completely.

Ardyn seems to understand and turns around to crawl over Gilgamesh’s sprawled legs, ass grazing over Gilgamesh’s cock standing at attention as he situates himself. Gilgamesh helps guide him into place, aligning Ardyn’s eager hole with his cockhead, then pulls Ardyn down into his lap, spearing him. Both groan at it all—Ardyn at being filled and Gilgamesh at the return of that tight, wet heat. With Ardyn across him, legs bent and knees digging into the mattress, gravity aids in lodging Gilgamesh’s cock deep inside.

Fumbling for balance, Ardyn’s sweat streaked palms find Gilgamesh’s shoulders, blunt fingernails digging in as Gilgamesh grinds up. Despite the (no doubt) extensive prep Ardyn did beforehand and the relative ease Gilgamesh had entering him, Ardyn is _tight_. Muscles squeeze and hug the curve of Gilgamesh's cock and clench down hard, almost as if Ardyn just wants to keep Gilgamesh in place, filling him to the brim.

Gilgamesh works his hips in a lazy grind, occasionally punctuated by sharply pulling Ardyn down on his cock, hands firmly planted on Ardyn’s hips. Ardyn jutters and moans, struggles to tear off his robe and discards it, letting Gilgamesh take the lead, then leans into his chest, holding on for dear life it feels. Dimly, Gilgamesh thinks to himself that he’s never seen the prince look finer than he does now, panting, head hanging low, his smooth, pale chest gleaming with sweat, swathes of his long, auburn hair slick with it. The only downside with this position and angle, Gilgamesh realizes, is that with Ardyn crumpled in against his chest, he’s unable to see Ardyn’s face (his expression drunk and overwhelmed, he hopes) and cock. He knows Ardyn is hard and leaking—he can _feel_ it against his stomach—but he finds himself hungry to see the prince’s smooth, pink cock now, bobbing as he grinds and thrusts.

Burning palms slide up from Ardyn’s hips to his chest, and Gilgamesh guides Ardyn to lean back slightly so he can appreciate the view. Malleable as putty in his hands, Ardyn obliges, their sticky chests separating. His expression is everything Gigamesh wanted and then some. Lips still red from use and parted, Ardyn is panting, eyes unfocused, cheeks flushed. Gilgamesh is happy to see, also, how Ardyn’s cock does indeed bob and jump each time he thrusts up, thick pearlescent beads of precome dribbling from the pink tip, a guilty smear of it on both their stomachs. He slides a hand to Ardyn’s pec, cups and gropes it, then tweaks the nipple between his thumb and finger, earning a wet, high moan.

“Have your previous ‘kings’ all been so good to you? Giving you what you need?” Gilgamesh rasps.

Ardyn just writhes, not quite trying to shirk off Gilgamesh’s pinch, but clearly sensitive to it.

“Come now, no need to be shy.” Gilgamesh releases Ardyn’s nipple and his fingertips skate south down Ardyn’s smooth stomach. “Out of all the cocks you’ve taken, whose has been the best?”

Ardyn doesn’t seem capable of answering, let alone processing the question, especially as Gilgamesh fists his cock. He keens, high and warbling, head twisting against Gilgamesh’s shoulder, as Gilgamesh pumps him slowly.

“Have any of them been enough to satisfy you?”

Ardyn shudders, now thrusting up into Gilgamesh’s hand shamelessly. Everything about Ardyn now—overwhelmed and base—pleases Gilgamesh greatly, but he wants an answer.

“If I’m not enough,” he says, relinquishing Ardyn’s cock and bringing his precome coated fingers to Ardyn’s lips, “I could call in the rest of my merry band when I’m through with you.” Ardyn doesn’t need any coaxing to accept Gilgamesh’s fingers into his mouth, not the least bit hesitant to taste himself. “I’m sure they’d all like to have a turn.”

Tongue laving over Gilgamesh’s fingers, a trail of spittle leaking down the side of his mouth, his eyes glazed over, overwhelmed by it all, Ardyn eagerly nods ‘yes.’ Gilgamesh himself is still grinning like an idiot, his smile widening further when he catches sight of Kemsit sternly nodding ‘no’ from the corner.

“Kemsit doesn’t approve,” Gilgamesh chuckles. “Do you let your body slave order you around?”

Ardyn doesn’t offer a response so Gilgamesh bucks up, hard. Gilgamesh withdraws his fingers, returning his iron like grip to Ardyn’s hips and takes off at a brisk pace, opting just to fuck Ardyn senseless.

“What happened to that mouth of yours?” Gilgamesh grinds out. “Cat got your tongue?” He shouldn’t relish so at repeating Ardyn’s own words back at him, but like a green youth smarting off to his teacher, he does.

Ardyn opens his eyes suddenly and glares at Gilgamesh, looking surprisingly annoyed. The look chills the blood in Gilgamesh’s veins instantly. In a flash Ardyn grabs his discarded robe beside them, the light fabric crumpled in his fist, and shoves a corner of into Gilgamesh’s agape mouth. Ardyn’s shoving more of the robe in before Gilgamesh can react, not to choke him, no, but to gag him. The sheer fabric is silken on Gilgamesh’s tongue and cheeks, light enough that there’s no immediate threat of choking, but the action is still enough to startle him and he tries to push Ardyn away.

“Be silent and obey.” Ardyn’s command rings out over the obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin, his voice clear and unaffected.

It’s now that Gilgamesh realizes, a hair shamefully, that in the hubbub his hips never quelled. He rolls them up, teeth clenching down on the soft gag in his mouth, and blinks back at Ardyn. Ardyn, for his part, rakes a hand up the back of Gilgamesh’s skull, fisting his dark, sweaty locks. His hold is tight but still, then suddenly he tugs Gilgamesh’s head back, eliciting a startled sound from Gilgamesh’s throat.

“Harder,” Ardyn orders, simultaneously tugging on Gilgamesh’s hair—surprisingly effective reins for an unruly stallion—and tossing his head back. The command isn’t targeted at anyone in particular, Ardyn yanking his fist, another finding the tail end of his sheer robe and tugging at it in the opposite direction, and Gilgamesh snaps his hips up sharply. Gilgamesh grunts against the restraint, Ardyn unyielding in his tugging, and a trail of spittle leaks from the corner of his mouth. But now Ardyn is fucking himself with zero abandon, slamming his hips down to meet each and every of Gilgamesh’s thrusts. It’s plenty of encouragement to play along with the latest, sordid development.

Panting, his hot breath hitting Gilgamesh’s cheek, Ardyn just looks at him, eyes clear despite everything. Serpent tongue slipping between his lips, Ardyn licks a stripe up Gilgamesh’s jaw. Everything from the look in Ardyn’s eye to the way he squeezes Gilgamesh’s cock screams ‘you belong to me’—a thought that doesn’t roil Gilgamesh’s guts as much as it might have just a short time ago.

Ardyn runs a finger down Gilgamesh’s jaw. “If I let go, will you behave and keep the gag in place?”

There’s nothing threatening in Ardyn’s voice or body language, and hell, if Gilgamesh is being honest he ‘nods’ yes not out of some fear for his life, but out of a desire to please Ardyn. Ardyn lets go of the robe and gives his cheek an affectionate stroke. His deathgrip on Gilgamesh’s hair loosens, too, and Ardyn smooths out the back of his hair. Gilgamesh’s entire body is tense, awaiting Ardyn’s next command, while Ardyn just seems content to admire his conquest. For all intents and purposes, Gilgamesh is the spoil of war now.

Ardyn caresses Gilgamesh’s cheek once more. “Lie back.” He gently nudges Gilgamesh’s chest with an elbow, encouraging him to comply. Tensing his stomach, Gilgamesh reclines, teeth still clenched on the fabric in his mouth. Simultaneously, perhaps as a reward for Gilgamesh’s good behavior, Ardyn leans in and kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, then his bottom lip, slick with spittle.

Gilgamesh’s cock jumps inside of Ardyn at the sudden tenderness, and Ardyn dips lower to leave a trail of kisses, nips, and licks down Gilgamesh’s jaw to his throat and clavicle. “You’ve played along marvelously,” he says between kisses. “So let me tell you how this will end.”

Swallowing hard, Gilgamesh fists the messed bedding in anticipation, eyes trained down on Ardyn as he straightens, pink leaking cock standing at attention. “I’m going to ride you until you come deep, deep inside of me.” He lightly grinds down against Gilgamesh’s cock, smiling sweetly. “If you make me come first, you can spend the night. In here, with me. Much better than sleeping on the hard ground outside, I think you’d agree.”

Gilgamesh just nods. In truth, he’s probably not processing exactly what Ardyn is saying, rather he’s so transfixed, hanging on every word, that he simply agrees. Affectionately, Ardyn swipes back a sticky lock of hair from Gilgamesh’s forehead and smiles. “Good boy.”

Ardyn takes a shaky breath as he grinds down lightly, then gently untangles one of Gilgamesh’s sweaty fists from the bedding. He brings Gilgamesh’s palm to his chest. “Promise not to run your mouth?” He encourages Gilgamesh to squeeze his pec and Gilgamesh nods ‘yes.’

Ardyn removes the wad of fabric from Gilgamesh’s mouth and discards it lightly. Gilgamesh takes a moment to relieve the tension that had sunken into his jaw from clenching down on the gag so, but doesn’t dare say a word.

For all of their previous vigor, Ardyn doesn’t seem the least bit tired. He works up to a fast pace with a practiced efficiency, bobbing up and down on Gilgamesh’s cock, hands braced back on Gilgamesh’s thighs. Gilgamesh tries to suppress the little (and not so little) moans and groans watching Ardyn fuck himself earns from him, but a firm squeeze to his thigh encourages him to do otherwise. “Let me hear you,” Ardyn rasps, redoubling his grip on Gilgamesh’s thighs. “If you’re to go back to your ‘merry band’ tonight, at least let them think you enjoyed yourself.”

At that, Gilgamesh both lets himself groan deeply and wraps his thick fingers around Ardyn’s bobbing cock, earning a wet, shuddering moan from the prince. Despite everything Ardyn is still tight around him, every drop of his hips drawing Gilgamesh in deeper. With Gilgamesh fisting him now, though, Ardyn breaks up the monotony with a series of slow grinds, milking himself with Gilgamesh’s grip.

Gilgamesh wants nothing more than to make Ardyn come—feeling like an impossible task what with how close to the edge Gilgamesh himself is. The offer of a warm bed doesn’t even occur to him; he’s driven instead by a deep desire to see what Ardyn looks like when he comes completely undone, to hear the sounds he makes, feel the way his muscles twitch and spasm. So he squeezes his fist tighter, rubs his thumb along the underside of Ardyn’s leaking cockhead when he thrusts into it, anything and everything to help Ardyn take the plunge off the edge.

Ardyn’s mouth is parted, eyes a cross between glassy and hard, caught between smiling down at Gilgamesh and unleashing a new command or lavishing praise. His stomach tenses, thighs, too, where they tough Gilgamesh’s, and Ardyn lets out a broken cry, head falling forward. Gilgamesh’s knows he’s ‘won,’ even before Ardyn’s hot finish paints his fingers and stomach. Ardyn’s hips jutter as he continues to fuck Gilgamesh’s fist, wringing out every last iota of pleasure his body is capable of, while his muscles flutter and squeeze around Gilgamesh’s cock, nearly carrying him over the edge, too.

_Nearly._

Hands and hips still, both of them panting and fighting to catch their breath when Kemsit rematerializes. “Shall I draw up a bath?”

Ardyn laughs lightly, finally drawing up his head allowing Gilgamesh to see the gorgeous flush on his cheeks, the hazy look in his eyes. “Our guest isn’t finished yet, Kemsit.” He waves her off, dismissively. “Does he really smell that badly you’d have him out of our presence?”

“Drunk on the smell of horse,” Kesmit sighs, withdrawing once more.

“Amongst other things,” Ardyn chuckles, his voice carrying a sated softness it had lacked up till now. “You still do want to come inside of me, yes?” He draws a lazy circle through the mess of his come and Gilgamesh’s coarse hair on Gilgamesh’s stomach, nodding that Gilgamesh has permission to speak.

“Yes.” The word comes out hoarse, Gilgamesh’s throat dry.

“Good.” Ardyn coaxes Gilgamesh to let go of his cock, a detail forgotten somewhere in between Kemsit’s reappearance and Ardyn’s blissed out post-orgasm glow. “You’re staying the night, you know. I’m a man of my word.”

Gilgamesh grins. “Do you often lose bets, or am I the first?”

Ardyn lowers himself to the bed, pulling himself off of Gilgamesh’s cock, and sprawls out on his back. His chest heaves, sweaty hair sprawled out around his head like a halo. “Finish up and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Gilgamesh doesn’t need to be told twice.

Dragging himself up, limbs heavy and cock aching, Gilgamesh slots himself between Ardyn’s legs, then hoists them up. Ardyn assists, resting his calves on Gilgamesh’s shoulders, and helps haul his hips up. Gilgamesh knows he won’t last long, but it’s more of a mad dash to the finish than anything else. He’s looking forward to collapsing into sleep—plush bed or no.

Gilgamesh doesn’t fight to hide the deep groan as he pushes back into Ardyn, finding little resistance at his entrance but that same tight heat. Bearing down like this, Gilgamesh somehow manages to fuck Ardyn deeper still, and after a few cursory thrusts he’s crumpled down on top of Ardyn, composure lost, hot breath breaking on Ardyn’s neck.

“That’s it, keep going,” Ardyn coos, stroking the back of Gilgamesh’s head affectionately. “Nice and deep.”

Ardyn hooks his knees over Gilgamesh’s shoulders, crossing his ankles, as Gilgamesh ruts mindlessly. Gilgamesh groans, kissing and rubbing his lips over Ardyn’s neck, hips snapping down, the sound of wet skin slapping harshly together filling his ears.

Ardyn continues to encourage him, kissing Gilgamesh’s ear, pulling him in with his legs. “Almost there, don’t stop.” He blows into the shell of Gilgamesh’s ear, then whispers, “Fill me up, Gilgamesh.”

Of all the things to send Gilgamesh toppling over the edge, it’s his own name that does him in.

Gilgamesh slams his hips into Ardyn once more, spilling himself deep within Ardyn as promised. Lacking sense to grind or thrust through his orgasm, Gilgamesh just holds himself deep, Ardyn caressing the back of his head as the waves of pleasure wash over him.

Gilgamesh has enough strength left in him to collapse just to Ardyn’s side instead of directly on top of him, his softening cock drawing out of Ardyn’s hole with a lurid sound, a trail of his finish dripping down over the loosened ring of muscle. Ardyn gasps lightly at the withdrawal, perhaps preferring for Gilgamesh to have stayed lodged inside of him for a bit longer, but ultimately doesn’t complain, unhooking his legs and letting Gilgamesh fall to the bed at his side.

The two just lie side by side, chests heaving, Gilgamesh dumb and dazed and ready to pass out. Vaguely, Gilgamesh hears Kemsit get up from her chair and prepare a basin of water for washing, but Ardyn holds his attentions, rolling onto his side to face him. His fingertips skate over the broad, muscular planes of Gilgamesh’s chest, idly circling one dark nipple, then the other.

Ardyn regards him affectionately, thoroughly pleased with Gilgamesh’s performance. Gilgamesh has enough energy left in him to beam back at him. He considers trying to be a bit dashing, maybe say something witty or muster a bit of his roguish charm, but Kemsit interjects before he can find the mind to do it.

“It might be advisable to wash him outside,” Kemsit says as she begins to wipe a damp cloth over Ardyn’s flank, “ _if_ he’s staying, that is.”

“She gets so jealous when I find a new pet,” Ardyn smirks. “Don’t take it personally.”

Gilgamesh blinks a few times. “Pet…?”

“Far more appeal to spending your days lounging in a harem than roughing it out in the desert, wouldn’t you agree?” Ardyn smiles as he sits up, allowing Kemsit to wipe the cloth over his other side.

Gilgamesh is gobsmacked by the idea, the post-orgasmic bliss evaporating off of him, and he remembers why he found the prince so off putting when this whole business began. Ardyn is running with the idea before he can even get a word in.

“You'll absolutely love the palace. Sprawling gardens, finest food in the country, and of course, only the most beautiful specimens in the harem, handpicked by yours truly. You'll be in good company, your every need attended to…” There's a hint of warning in his smile. “So long as you attend to mine, that is.”

Ardyn slides off the bed, relaxed and easy, and takes the cloth from Kemsit to wipe the lower half of his body. “Kemsit will get you something to drink. You must be parched after all of that.”

Not a moment later Kemsit is pushing a gold plated goblet into Gilgamesh’s hand, and he can do little else but accept it, sit up to drink it, and take a deep pull. Ardyn goes on and on about the palace and the harem, how lovely it is, how lucky Gilgamesh is to have pleased him so, and really, by this point? Gilgamesh is too tired to put up a fight.

He drains his cup, the wine too sweet for his taste, and sets it aside then lies down, closing his eyes, and tries to find sleep despite Ardyn’s yammering.

If he’s lucky, the slight will offend Ardyn so greatly he’ll rescind his ‘generous’ offer.

But knowing Gilgamesh’s luck, he knows not to count on it.


End file.
